Doing Business, Part 39 (Patreon)

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Thirty-Nine

I can tell that it’s a fancy restaurant, because I have no idea what most of the dishes are. Even in the items’ descriptions in the menu, there are words that mean next to nothing to me.

“What is Maldon salt?” I quietly asked Mommy.

She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s just sea salt.”

“What makes it…Maldon?”

“The shape.”

“That matters?”

“To the chef, perhaps.”

I sigh, worrying that when it comes time to order, I’m just going to have to randomly pick something off the menu and pray that I like it.

“You’re overthinking this,” she said, picking up on my anxiety. “It’s just brunch.”

“Maybe my palate just isn’t as sophisticated.”

“Believe me,” she said. “If they served jars of baby food and warm bottles of milk, I’d have already ordered.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I’m just not as…sophisticated.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Baby,” she said, smirking. “Why don’t I order for you?”

I blushed at the thought of needing her to order for me like I was a child. Though it made sense–I was the one wearing a diaper.

“Okay,” I said.

“I suppose I should make sure that you don’t have any allergies that I don’t know about?”

“Not that I know of,” I said, scanning the menu again. “I don’t think I’m allergic to…watercress.”

“Good,” she said. “Because it’s delicious.”

She had ordered herself a glass of mimosa and a cup of coffee. I had almost ordered the same, except she had cut me off and insisted on the waitress just bringing me a cup of juice instead.

“A pity they don’t have cups with lids on them here,” Mommy said, watching me take a sip from my glass of orange juice. “Though, I guess I could start carrying one in the diaper bag.”

Hearing her say the d-word in public still riled my senses. I took a paranoid glance around us to make sure that nobody had heard her. As best as I could tell, nobody seemed to care.

“You crack me up,” she said. “Still worrying about what other people think about you?”

“Shouldn’t I?” I asked. “I like, you know, what we’re doing here. But people still frown upon this sort of thing.”

She laughed, leaning forward on the table and resting her chin on the back of her hand, supported by her elbow on the table. “And how would you describe ‘this sort of thing?’”

“My older boss…keeping me in diapers?”

“And chastity, don’t forget,” she added.

“Of course.”

“And the plug.”

I drew in a nervous breath as I nodded. I hadn’t forgotten that either.

The diaper and the chastity cage were constant presences in my life, but ones I had adapted to. I could even go a few hours without thinking about the fact that I was wearing one or the other. I’d be reminded, of course. It didn’t take much to be reminded–the crinkle of the diaper as I moved, or a little trickle of pee bubbling out of the tip of my locked manhood.

But this plug.

I wasn’t sure how I could ever adapt to such a thing. Such was the point, I imagined–it wasn’t intended for long term use. And so its presence was always felt. Every single movement seemed to cause it to shift ever so slightly, though it was hard to describe the resulting sensation. It wasn’t pain or discomfort. Sometimes it was pleasure, but not always. It was just there. A presence in my ass. In my diaper. In my pants. As I sat in this restaurant with Mommy.

I nodded. “Y-yeah. The plug.”

“You don’t think that’d go over all that well with the masses?” she asked, coy smile on her face.

“I doubt it.”

“I could ask.”

My heart started beating a little faster. “Ask who?”

Our waitress returned to the table at that exact moment. Perfect timing, some might argue. I watched Mommy smile as she opened her mouth. I bit my bottom lip, terrified that she was going to ask something incredibly humiliating.

“We’re ready to order, I believe,” she actually said.

“Very good,” our waitress said. “And what could I get for you two today?”

“I’d like the lamb boxty,” Mommy said. “And the little one will have the quiche of the day, please.”

Little one. My cheeks were reddening before the words even fully registered with me.

“Perfect choices,” our server said. She was sure to smile at each of us–but the line between it being just a friendly smile and a smug ‘I heard and acknowledge what that woman just called you’ smile was far too thin for me to decipher properly.

And she was off to bring our order to the kitchen.

“I bet you enjoyed that,” I said.

“Not as much as I’m about to enjoy…this.”

She had been holding onto her phone for the last minute, but I hadn’t thought of it much until I watched her sliding her finger across the screen at the same moment I felt a slow throbbing pulse emanating from deep within my diaper.

“Uh…unnnh…”

“Oops.”

“M-mommy…”

“Yes?

“I’m…I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I managed to spit out.

She just laughed. “And why not? Did it hurt?”

“N-no…”

“So it felt good?”

I nodded.

“Too good?”

I nodded again.

“Hm. Let’s try it again.”

“No, wait, I–”

But, again, I felt that rhythmic pulsing from inside my ass. It short circuited me–shut my whole system down. I couldn’t talk and I could barely move. It was just another low, dull, moan coming from my lips: “Mmmhhhhh..”

“I have to say, this seems to work exceptionally well. Do you like it?”

“I…uhm…”

She laughed, shaking her head in amusement as she watched me flounder over my words.

“I think I like I it,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “The only problem is that I might…uh…”

“Like it too much?”

I nodded. “Maybe… What if we just…did it later? Somewhere else? Anywhere else?”

She laughed again. “Why, Clarky? Are you nervous that you like it so much that you might just blow your load in your pampers? Here, at brunch?”

“Well…uhm…”

“I’ll take that as a yes. If I’ve learned anything about you, it's that you’re a little butt-slut. You just can’t get enough, can you?”

“I do like it,” I said. “So maybe we can agree that you’ve proven your point and we can just save this for a little later?”

“My point,” she was quick to retort, “was that I could make you climax in your diaper during brunch without you touching yourself. We haven’t accomplished that just yet.”

“But do we have to? I mean…nnnhhghhh….”

She had turned the dial up again, sending waves of sinful pleasure through my ass and triggering every nerve between my bottom and my brain.

The worst part was that everytime I felt it, I wanted more. Everytime I felt the plug shaking and pulsing inside of me, a little part of me hoped she’d just leave it like that until my entire body melted into a puddle of goo on the seat. Much like the goo, I imagined, I’d probably be depositing into my diaper if she kept this up.

“You’ve never changed my mind before,” she said. “And so I doubt you will now.”

I nodded as I felt my body trembling from the pleasure I had just experienced. Of course she was going to have her way with me.

“I have to stretch it out a little,” she said. “I don’t want you to blow your top so soon.”

“I…just…uh…”

“Stupified?” she asked. “I must say, I’m really enjoying the effect this little toy has on you. If it wasn’t for the fact that I needed you to make your dirty messes in your diaper, I’d say we should just leave it in all the time.”

“I don’t know if, uhm, that’s a…uh…” Words were hard. I knew the jist of what I wanted to say, but I just couldn’t form the words to say it.

“Now, now, don’t hurt yourself trying to think of big boy words.”

I was on edge, constantly bracing myself for the next burst of pulses. As I recovered from my last temporary daze, I remembered where I was. Around us was a chorus of forks clattering on plates and people talking. It simply seemed unreal that I was experiencing these sorts of pleasures in a place like this, and nobody knew it.

“I think I was wrong,” I said.

She laughed, taking a long and slow sip of her mimosa. “About what, dear?”

I took a deep breath and wiped a little sweat from my brow. “You…could, uhm, make me climax in my diaper right here, right now, if you wanted to. Pretty easily.”

“I already knew that.”

“W-were you serious? About the whole…public humiliation thing?”

“Have I ever lied before?”

“No, Mommy.”

“Does the idea of me humiliating you here in public frighten you?”

“Yes.”

“But does it excite you?”

“...yes.”

“I thought so.”

Maybe it was the intense pleasure from the plug that had jostled my brain, but I’m suddenly on board with whatever she wants to do. With a sigh and tiny nod, I once again cede my agency to her. I’m all hers, to do with as she will.

“We should eat first,” she said. “I’d hate for us to get so caught up in naughty business that we forget to eat brunch.”

As if having used Mommy-magic to summon brunch into existence, our server reappeared, carefully placing our plates down in front of us.

“Is there anything else I can get for you two?” our server asked.

With a rye smile, Mommy asked: “I don’t suppose you have a bib, do you?”

The young woman laughed in that ‘Oh, you silly goose,’ sort of way. “I doubt it.”

“It’s alright,” Mommy replied. “I might have one in my purse.”

The server laughed it off before trotting off to our next table, likely thinking nothing of the playful interaction. Were I to guess, this was a common enough self-deprecating joke for adults to make at a restaurant that it barely meant anything to the server. Meanwhile, I was nervous that Mommy actually did have a bib in her purse, and that she was a moment away from taking it out and putting it on me.

“I’m just teasing,” she said, much to my relief. “Having a little fun, you know?”

“Mmhmm,” I said, taking a bite of the quiche. I’ve had quiches before, so I wasn’t a stranger to the concept. But I didn’t remember seeing this on the menu, and I had no clue what was in it. It tasted good, I thought, but the mystery of what it was made it hard for me to fully enjoy.

I had just parked a forkful of eggy goodness in my mouth when I saw her fingers tap on her phone’s screen. I knew what was coming, but my body had no time to prepare for it. I felt the plug pulsing in my diaper again.

“Guhhhh…” My mouth exploded open, sending fragments of partially-chewed food across the table as I groaned.

Mommy didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, she thought the scene was rather humorous. I watched her tap the screen again, and I foolishly assumed that she was turning the plug off. No–she was increasing the intensity.

“N-nuuuhhhghhh…” I helplessly muttered as I felt myself quivering in my chair.

It felt good. Like, way too good.

The pulsing stopped and the first breath I took after felt like the first breath I had taken in two hours. The fresh air filled my lungs as I panted and gripped the edge of the table.

“How’s everything going over here?” asked the server, reappearing at our table. Always at just the right moment, it seemed.

“Quite well,” Mommy said. “Isn’t that right, Baby?”

I was so dazed that I hardly took note of the fact that she had called me ‘baby’ in front of our server. “Y-yes. Very good. Thank you.”

“Bra-vo,” Mommy said, laughing as the server walked away from us again. “A stunning performance.”

“I, uhm, don’t know if I can take much more.”

“Oh? What do you think would happen if you had to?”

“I…uh… I think that I’d probably…”

“Cream your diapers?” she asked, chucking.

“Uhm. Probably.”

I was too nervous to pick up a fork again. There was no doubt in my mind that the second I tried to eat again, she’d turn up the intensity on the plug and send my food flying across the restaurant again. Worse, with a fork in my hand, I was liable to accidentally impale myself.

“You can eat,” she said.

“But…”

“Go ahead. Eat.”

I take a deep breath and give a little nod, hesitantly bringing a new forkful of food to my mouth. I’m gripped with paranoia as I cautiously chew every bite–just waiting for the moment when she touches her phone again.

To her credit, she pushes the phone away from her on the table. A peace offering–for now. I slowly lower my guard until I’ve finished my entire plate of food.

“That’s a good boy,” she says. “Was it good?”

I nodded. “Th-thank you, Mommy.”

“Now then. Where did we leave off?”

She pulls the phone towards her again, unlocking the screen. I open my mouth to protest, but the words seem stuck in my throat.

Fuck. I can guess what the problem is. I can feel the toy’s presence in my ass as I shift in my seat, and it just keeps rubbing against the right nerves. I want–need–more.

I didn’t see this coming, and I certainly didn’t think that I’d be hearing myself say this to her: “Mommy…p-please. Make me…c*m?”

That wide, devilish, smile crept across her face. “Right here? RIght now?”

I nodded.

“Very well. If that’s what you want.”

She starts slow, leaving the intensity of the plug’s vibrations on a lower setting for a few moments. The throbbing slowly overtakes my body again, shutting down my ability to move or speak. Then–just as I begin to acclimate–she increases the intensity. She does this over and over again, never giving me a chance to adapt before hitting me with faster vibrations. With each new stage, I find it harder and harder to function. It’s getting harder to even think. The rest of the world is fading out of existence.

“Uh. Ugh. Ughhhhhhhh.” My moaning gets deeper, more guttural. Primal. I think–though I’m not entirely positive–that I’m also getting louder. “Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

Somewhere in the ether that surrounds me, I can hear Mommy’s voice: “So close, baby boy.”

“Mommmmmmy, I’m going to…”

I didn’t get to finish that thought–not that I had to. With my hands flat on the top of the table, and my ass slightly elevated from the chair, I released one final, epic, groan as I felt myself spurting through my cage and into my diaper.

“I think we’re done here,” Mommy said, slowly shutting down the plug.

The ringing in my ears faded, and I found that I couldn’t hear a thing. Had I climaxed so hard that I temporarily lost my sense of hearing?

No. It was the restaurant that was silent. And as my vision was restored, I looked around to see that the entire establishment had stopped what they were doing and were staring at me. Every patron. Every server. Every bus-person. Their eyes were fixed on me–the horny fool who just had an orgasm at the table.

“I think that satisfies my desire to publicly humiliate the baby who made stickies in his diaper,” Mommy said smugly.

People began going back to their own business again. There was chattering and conversing–and I could guess what they were talking about now.

“Uhm, hi,” our server said, standing at the edge of our table with a worried look on her face. “I’m so sorry,  but my manager has asked if you two wouldn’t mind…uhm…leaving?”

“We were on our way out anyway,” Mommy replied, seemingly unflustered. “Just allow us to settle the bill.”

“N-no need,” she said. “My manager will handle the bill. We just think it’d be best if the two of you left now.”

I was more than ready to go, and Mommy seemed fine with this idea as well. Now, there was one final step left in my humiliating morning–the long shameful look out of the restaurant.

I tried not to look anyone in the eyes as we walked past them. My face was still bright red, and my ass still crinkled behind me–feeling swollen and numb from the plug’s intense vibrations. Not only that, but it hadn’t occurred to me until we were walking that I had completely soaked my diaper. Apparently, her toy had shaken the piss right out of me. I wondered when that had occurred.

Meanwhile, Mommy seemed nonplussed about it all. Confident, even.

“Well,” she said to me when we were outside again. “That went well.”

“Well? Y-you think that went well?”

“It was a free meal, right?” she shrugged. “Besides, have you ever c*m so hard before that you got kicked out of a restaurant?”

“...no.”

“Quite the accomplishment, really. Just wait until we tell everyone back home.”